Manuscript from Cordoba


In the beautiful steamy haze floating above my morning coffee I sat there on a narrow balcony and stared at the old alleyways and streets that spoke to me of many memories and tales. The bitter brew of the finest Arabic coffee grains soaking in my mouth painted every image in my mind with the darkest shades of brown until the city melted into something from the past, a past that I could not recall. Emperors came and emperors left but here we have remained for thousands of years rejoicing with the bounties of our generous land and sea withstanding every conqueror, conquering every journeying heart until Cordoba with every piece of stone and brick and wooden stall became a sleeping giant taking refuge beneath the gentle lashes of a history that chose to spare us all.


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